The forest was quiet. Too quiet.
When Cipher's boots finally struck solid ground again, the shift in air nearly stole his breath. Gone was the choking blackness of the Wolf's belly-world—the reeking shadows, the whispering teeth, the endless repetition of death. Here, the air smelled faintly of pine and damp earth, heavy with the aftermath of rain. The crimson leaves no longer spiraled endlessly but lay scattered across the forest floor, crushed beneath his stride.
Red's weight pressed against his side as he steadied her. She wasn't trembling the way she had before—not the same desperate, bone-deep terror—but her breaths came shallow, uneven. Her eyes darted at every shifting branch, every stray creak in the undergrowth, as if she expected the Wolf to leap out again at any moment.
Cipher crouched to meet her eye level, careful, deliberate, the same way he had with countless students who'd looked at him through tears and confusion. His voice softened, a steady anchor in the hush.
"You're still here."
Red blinked at him, her small hands fisting the tattered edges of her cloak. The once-bright fabric still glowed faintly, a dim shimmer like embers cooling after a flame. She touched it hesitantly, as if afraid it would vanish.
"I… I said no," she whispered. Her lips trembled. "And it listened. For a moment, it listened…"
Cipher nodded. "Not because of me. Because of you."
Her eyes flicked up to his, wide, disbelieving. "But I didn't fight. I didn't… I just…"
"You stood," he finished for her, his tone steady as iron. "You told the story what you wanted. That's more than most ever do."
The Automaton stirred from Cipher's shoulder, its glowing eyes pulsing faintly in the dim light. Its voice was quieter than usual, thoughtful."Resistance leaves ripples. Though the Wolf still prowls, this girl has shifted her tale's weight. A thread once bound in shadow is now loose."
Red hugged her arms to her chest, as if the words were too heavy to hold. "So… does that mean it's over?"
Cipher's gaze swept the forest.
The trees still bent faintly toward the horizon, leaning as though pulled by an invisible tide. The air carried an undercurrent—like a hum beneath silence—that raised the fine hairs at the back of his neck. It wasn't over. Not by a long stretch.
He stood slowly, extending a hand to her. "It means it's begun."
She hesitated before placing her small, trembling hand in his. Her palm was clammy, but she didn't let go.
They started walking.
For a time, the forest let them. Leaves crunched beneath their steps, the occasional crow cawed in the distance, and shafts of pale light pierced through the canopy. Yet every time Cipher's gaze caught a shadow between the trees, he wondered if it lingered too long. If the forest was holding its breath.
Red finally broke the silence. "It's still out there, isn't it? The Wolf."
Cipher's hand tightened on his scythe, its runes flickering faintly like stars seen through storm clouds. "Yes."
"Then what's the point?" she asked, voice cracking. "If it's just going to keep coming back—if no matter what I do, it'll find me again—what's the point?"
Cipher slowed, then stopped altogether. He turned, placing his scythe against the ground like a staff and facing her directly.
"The point," he said, "is that it didn't win today. You're still breathing. You're still walking. Every step you take is one the Wolf doesn't own."
Her eyes filled, shimmering with the same uncertainty he'd seen in countless classrooms—when a student stared down at ink-stained pages and thought, I can't do this. This is too big for me. He'd always leaned down then, steady and patient, offering the same truth.
"One step at a time. That's the point."
The Automaton's wings flickered faintly with light. "The Wolf is not gone. But it is… wary. Her defiance has bruised its hunger. Such wounds do not kill, but they teach."
Red's breath hitched. She swiped at her eyes with the edge of her cloak, then gave a jerky nod. "…One step."
Cipher allowed a faint smile to curve his lips. "That's all anyone can do."
The hours bled together as they pressed deeper into the forest.
Sometimes the path seemed almost normal—scents of moss, the sound of a brook gurgling nearby, a squirrel darting across the branches above. But then, without warning, the world would warp: a tree would glitch, repeating the same motion of swaying leaves again and again, or a patch of earth would ripple like water beneath their feet before snapping back into soil.
Red clung tighter to his side during those moments, though her feet didn't falter.
When the sun began its descent, painting the horizon in blood-orange light, Cipher finally spoke. "We should rest."
They found a hollow near an ancient tree, its roots coiling like a protective cage. Cipher laid his scythe across the entrance, its runes glowing softly, casting faint starlight into the hollow. The Automaton perched atop it, wings folded, eyes scanning the shadows.
Red curled into her cloak, her small frame trembling less now, more from exhaustion than fear. She watched Cipher as he sat across from her, his broad frame outlined by the glow of the runes.
"…Why do you care?" she asked suddenly.
Cipher lifted a brow. "Care?"
She hugged her knees. "About me. About this story. You don't belong here. You could just… leave me."
His silence stretched, heavy, before he finally answered. "Because stories matter." His voice was low, steady, a conviction forged long before this forest. "Because if I walk away, then the Wolf wins. And I've seen enough people lose to their wolves."
Red swallowed, her small face illuminated by the runes' glow. For the first time, her eyes didn't look hollow—they looked thoughtful. Almost alive.
"…I don't want to lose anymore," she whispered.
Cipher nodded once. "Then you won't. Not while I'm here."
But even as he said it, a flicker of movement at the edge of the hollow caught his eye.
A shadow slid between the trees, tall, lupine, eyes glowing faintly in the twilight. It didn't step forward. It didn't attack. It only watched.
The Automaton's glow dimmed to a warning pulse. "It lingers."
Cipher said nothing. He only reached for the scythe, feeling the cold weight settle into his palm.
The Wolf was patient.
And patience, Cipher knew, was far more dangerous than hunger.